Two years of Grace

September 5, 2017

My dear Birthday Girl!

Happy birthday! Or as you have been saying all weekend, “Happy to you!” What a day (weekend!) of joy, as we have been celebrating all the wonderfulness that is you!!

The other night, your dad and I fell asleep talking about all the things we love about you. Really, there are too many to name. But in this letter, I will try to tell you a few of them.

We love that you love to read. We use books to bribe you sometimes, or to pull you out of a tantrum, because you always, always want to read. You crawl into a lap (even if Isaac is already occupying said lap) and happily sit through an entire story. It’s really amazing, that you have that kind of attention span. You will sit and listen to the whole thing, engaging in it all along the way. You point out things you see in the pictures. You respond when we ask you about the pictures. If we say, “Can you find a bird?” you will look carefully until you find it, then point to it, saying, “This.” At night, you insist on taking whatever bedtime story we read you with you into bed. After we turn out the light, you sit in bed and re-read it, practicing. We catch snippets, and sure enough you know some of the words, and mimic our inflection! You’re really quite amazing, my dear.

Oo-oo-ah-ah's bedtime

We love that you love to sing. You certainly have your favorite songs – “E-I-O” (Old McDonald) and “Wow wow wow” (The Wheels on the Bus) are regular requests. But you also learn new songs quickly. Row Row Row Your Boat is a new favorite, Baa Baa Black Sheep, ABCs, Itsy Bitsy Spider, Open-Shut Them, and Happy Birthday are all songs you have sung on your own, and there are many others you sing with me. You are very good at hand motions, and eager to copy them. But love, nothing is sweeter than your little voice, singing a song. We especially love it when you make up songs to sing to your babies.

We love that you love your babies and your blankies (aka “ladies”). Your current favorite lovies are Pink Lady (the largest and most unwieldy blankie of them all, of course) and “Oo-oo-ah-ah,” your blue monkey. You are a very good mommy to your babies, especially Oo-oo-ah-ah. You change her diaper, or ask me to do it (and I have to tell you, your monkey poops a LOT – seems like she is pooping all the time!), you strap her into the carseat and the stroller, you set her in the high chair and put a bib on her, you give her food to eat. The other day, you took her through the entire bedtime routine: dressed her in your pajamas, fed her a bottle, read her a book, rocked and sang to her, put her in your crib, patted her on the head, and closed the door as you left. Adorable.

We love that you’re a ham. (Runs in the family, I guess!) Whenever the camera comes out, you offer a cheesy smile and say, “Cheeeeeeeese!” We did not teach you this, so we’re not sure where it came from! You tell animated stories complete with hand motions and interesting inflection, even though we can’t understand three quarters of your words. You are a goofball, often trying to get us to laugh, but then cracking up yourself at your own antics. It’s delightful.

We love that you are a good big sister. You watch out for Isaac, making sure he has what he

needs. (Just this evening, you found all your blankies, and pulled Isaac’s aside and brought it to him.) You try to feed him. You play with him. He doesn’t even like to go to sleep unless you are in the room with him, and when we leave you up there together, the two of you chat and giggle for as much as an hour before you finally go to sleep. You are already thick as thieves, you two.

We love that you are trying so hard to talk. You totally get language – you understand pretty much everything, and try so hard to articulate what is in your head. You are getting closer and closer! You repeat everything, always practicing. Every day, your words are clearer, and you string more of them together. It is very exciting, and you look so satisfied when you successfully communicate something to us.

Grace loves to drive. Seriously, always asking to.

We love that you’re such a boss. You take care of business, kid. You have clear ideas of how things should be – for example, when we go for a walk, you dictate who will go in what stroller, who will walk, who will be carried, etc. You take care of all the babies. With you in charge, we know everything will be taken care of just as it should.

We love that you are so loving. For a kid who used to not like cuddling at all, you have changed your tune. You love to sit in laps. You willingly give hugs and kisses. You are quick with an “I love you,” or a hug around the knees. And each and every time, it melts our hearts. You are such a treasure, my sweet Grace. We love your smile, you goofiness, your tender care, your excitement over every discovery (or even things you long ago discovered – seeing them as if for the first time every day!), your determination, your creativity, your industriousness, your heart. You are every bit grace, our Grace Victoria!

                                                                                                Much love,

                                                                                                Mommy

Sermon: Denying ourselves for the sake of love (Sept. 3, 2017)

Pentecost 13A

September 3, 2017

Exodus 3:1-15

Romans 12:9-21

Matthew 16:21-28

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

            This past week, a Facebook memory popped up from four years ago of Michael’s and my second fourth wedding anniversary. You may remember, we got married twice: once in California at the beginning of August, and then we did the ceremony again here so all of our East Coast friends – including you! – could be a part of it. It was an especially timely memory, because one of the scripture readings we had at our wedding was what we heard a moment ago from Romans. “Let love be genuine,” Paul writes. “Hate was is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints, extend hospitality to strangers.” I think it is very good advice for a newly married couple, which is why we chose it! But in the NRSV Bible translation we use, this is actually called, “Marks of a true Christian,” and that’s really true. These are all behaviors and efforts and traits of someone who not only follows Christ in word, but also in deed. In other words, if you call yourself a Christian, then these describe how you live your life.

            In fact, I think all of the things that follow – the ones I read just now and the whole list that was read earlier – could all be elaboration on that first statement: “let love be genuine.” The word Paul uses there means “sincere,” or, “love without hypocrisy.” In other words, don’t just talk to the talk, but walk the walk. Say you do these things, and then, actually do them.

This is really the heart and soul of faith, isn’t it? From the very beginning, God has always acted in love: creating the world, redeeming God’s people through Christ, and empowering the Church to service of the world. No one can deny that genuine love is a pretty big part of being a Christian, right?

            What’s sometimes tricky is knowing just how that genuine love should be enacted. Sometimes it is obvious – we see genuine love in kindness, and generosity, and compassion. We’ve seen a lot of that in Houston this week in the wake of Hurricane Harvey, as neighbors selflessly help neighbors, people open their homes to strangers in need of shelter, workers tirelessly save people’s lives around the city, and people around the country donate money and goods. We see it in our various ministries here: donations of food and other goods, the Christmas stocking project, and the like.

But sometimes love is less obvious – like the spouse of an alcoholic finally putting her foot down, and forbidding her beloved what he craves, or putting boundaries in place to keep your children safe, even if they scream and cry about it. What’s especially tricky is when love expressed for one person looks like lack of love for another – say, if someone with power is oppressing someone without power, and someone else comes to put a stop to it. The weaker party felt that as loving, but the powerful party probably didn’t. But see, love doesn’t always look like agreement or tolerance; sometimes it looks like putting a firm stop to abuse. You see, love can be complicated, and can look very different in different situations.

            So, as we try to sort all this out, what if we try to understand what genuine love looks like in light of our Gospel text today? Jesus says to his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” They are tough words – but no tougher than what Jesus himself does for us. He even says as much in John’s Gospel, telling them that there is no greater love than to put down your life for a friend. That is, to lose your life. So… if that is genuine love, what does that mean for us?

            Let me start by saying, I don’t think it means you have to literally leave everything dear to you behind, nor that you have to literally die. Though, I do think it means you have to be willing to do those things, if it is in service to the gospel. There are a few exceptional examples in history who have indeed died for the sake of making sure God’s love is known: Martin Luther King, Jr. and Dietrich Bonhoeffer are modern examples. But for those of us who are not called to be martyrs, what might it look like to lose our life?

            This past week I had the opportunity to stand with over 3000 faith leaders of various religions in Washington DC, on the anniversary of Martin Luther King’s March on Washington and his epic “I Have a Dream” speech. Together with all those people – black, white, brown, young, old, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Sikh – we joined our voices in support of the very things Dr. King addressed in that

Ministers March for Justice, Aug 28, 2017

speech: racial justice, economic justice, jobs, and healthcare. We prayed, we sang, and we marched, celebrating what we shared, finding joy and beauty in each other’s traditions, and doing what our faiths compelled us to do, which was to stand up for the marginalized and oppressed. Throughout the event, we heard from several dynamic speakers. One thing that someone said really resonated with me. He talked about how Jesus shows us that love is most genuinely expressed in sacrifice. Then he said, “So you’re here to march for justice. That’s great. What are you willing to sacrifice for justice? What will you give up so that all might have the justice they deserve?” It comes right back to Jesus’ statement today: if you want to be a disciple of Jesus, if you want to be a genuine Christian, then you’ve got to deny yourself. You’ve got to give up your life.

            Again, I want to be clear about what this does NOT mean. It doesn’t mean we deny the gifts God has given us – to the contrary, those gifts should be used for furthering the gospel! It does not necessarily mean we have to die prematurely.

But it does mean we may have to deny something about ourselves that has brought us safety and comfort, especially emotional safety and comfort. It does mean we have to ask about all of our decisions, “Who benefits from this decision?” and then if you are the beneficiary, to also ask, “Does this benefit to me mean someone else won’t get what they need?” and then perhaps to be willing to make a different decision that is in someone else’s best interest, rather than our own. (Remember, “deny yourself?”)

It does mean being willing to be wrong sometimes. Let me ask you something: Has anyone here ever had an argument with someone in which that person successfully changed your mind in the moment? Yeah, I didn’t think so! Because people don’t generally change their mind by being told, “You’re wrong about that.” And yet, I bet every one of us has, in fact, been wrong. Right? People’s minds can only be changed by two things: relationship, and self-reflection and repentance. And so, if we want to engage in the practice of denying ourselves, losing ourselves for the sake of the gospel, and repentance, a good start is to try building relationships with people who are affected differently by an issue than you are – a person of a different color, or religion, or socioeconomic status. If you can’t find a physical person, find reading material written by someone with a different experience, and learn first hand what their life is like.

I don’t know about you, but I am much more willing to admit I am wrong about something, if I have come to realization on my own, through study and self-reflection. And this process often results in healing, for me and for those around me. So one thing I have been trying to do, as I have considered how to find healing in this divided world, is try on my own to let my mind be changed about the issues that divide us – to seek out other opinions, especially from people I respect, and approach them with the intention of being open-minded and willing to change. I read and listen to things by people of color to better understand racism. I get my news from sources with both liberal and conservative bias. I listen to interviews and read blogs from people of an opposite opinion, and see if there is anything there with which I can resonate. And I can’t tell you how many times I have thought to myself, “Oh man, Johanna, you might have been wrong on this!” Though it is easier to admit this to myself, without having to admit it aloud to another person, especially a person I’m currently arguing with, it is also true that being wrong about something, especially something you believed deeply, can feel an awful lot like losing your life, because it requires giving up a viewpoint that has been central to who you are and how you view the world.

But isn’t that what the Christian life calls us to: a life of continual repentance? And don’t we believe that ours is a God who brings about transformation? Isn’t the Christian life one in which we regularly examine our hearts for ways we have fallen short of selflessly, sacrificially, and genuinely loving our neighbor, in which we name those things before God, and pray that we would be able to turn back toward Christ? A life in which we are grateful, again and again, to receive forgiveness? Because that forgiveness, we know, did not come easily for Christ. Christ indeed denied himself, took up his physical cross, and lost his life – so that we would be able to find our new life, a life that is free of the shackles of sin, free of the fear of death, free of all that would keep us from God’s love. It is because we have that new life, that we are able and empowered to deny ourselves and give up our own lives, all for the sake of sharing that life-giving love with those who desperately need it.

Let us pray… God of love, you have shown us what it means to love one another genuinely. Now give us the courage and humility to do it. Help us to see when we are misguided and help us to understand the plight of the other, so that we would be willing to deny ourselves and lose something important to us, for the sake of those in need. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Who is Jesus, and who is the Church? (Aug. 27, 2017)

Pentecost 12A

August 27, 2017

Matthew 16:13-20

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

            “Who do people say that I am?” Jesus asked. “And who do you say that I am?” These questions have been in my head this week as I have continued to process the events in Charlottesville. There were many horrifying things about those events, but one of them for me was seeing white supremacists claiming that this was an expression of their Christian faith – their alleged faith in the same Jesus Christ that I proclaim! I heard a story this week about a former KKK member who said that when he made his commitment as a teenager, he slit his wrist and pledged covenant with the KKK and with Jesus Christ. In the same breath, he swore loyalty to two powers that are completely incompatible, at least in my understanding of who Jesus Christ is. “Who do people say that I am?” Jesus asks? Well, I don’t think I would be saying the same thing as those guys, yet we both claim faith in Christ! How do we reconcile that? How do we respond – as individuals, and as the Church?

            I think those questions – “Who do people say that I am?” and then, “Who do you say that I am?” – are always important to consider in light of what is going on in our lives and in the world around us. Because although aspects of God are unchanging, God is so complex and expansive that we might see God differently at any given time depending on what is most needful at that moment.  

            And so I ask you today, brothers and sisters: who do people you know say the Son of Man is, and who do you say that he is, today, at this time? Who is Jesus, when racist and anti-Semitic attitudes hit the streets and 1930s-style fascism makes a comeback? Who is Jesus, when our country is as divided as it has been since the Civil War? Who is Jesus, when even people proclaiming faith in Jesus disagree on what that faith implies, to the point of being diametrically opposed in the actions that stem from it? Who is Jesus?

Peter’s answer is that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. Jesus responds to Peter by telling him, “You are Peter (the word for “rock”), and on this rock I will build my Church.” In other words, Peter’s confession, his declaration of who Jesus is, becomes the basis of the Church of Christ. So clearly, this interaction also has something important to say about the character of that Church, who and how the Church is called to be. Who is this Church that proclaims Christ, the Messiah, the Son of the living God? This is an especially important question right now, as the Church discerns how to respond to a situation that reveals how very broken, divided, and hurting our country is.

 The first thing we can glean about the character of the Church, is that we are a Church that proclaims Christ even amidst conflicting gods. Let me explain. This story begins by saying, “Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi.” This is not a mundane detail of the story. Caesarea Philippi was a cesspool of sin, most of all, abusive political power and back-scratching, and religious idol-worship. It was named for two powerful political leaders, and it was the center of worship of the god, Pan. The city stood at the base of Mount Hermon, right against a large cliff known as “Rock of the Gods,” in honor of the many shrines build against it. In the center of Rock of the Gods was what was called “The Gate of

"Rock of the Gods" - a shrine to false gods - where Peter
made his confession of who Jesus is.

Hades,” because it was believed that this was where the god Ba-al would enter and leave the underworld. Against this backdrop of political power and religious idolatry, Jesus asks his disciples to state, loudly and clearly, who he is – as opposed to all that! When Jesus calls Peter “the rock,” it is over and against this rock of sinful false-god-worship. “YOU are the rock, Peter!” he says, “not all this mess! You [aka the Church] will be stronger than whatever false gods people are worshipping!”

So why does this matter to us as the Church today? Well, because false gods are still very much a threat to our faith. And no, I don’t mean Ba-al or Pan, I mean much more pervasive and sneaky gods – all those things that claim our attention or loyalty, that indeed pull us away from our relationship with God and from our Christian call to love and serve our neighbor. For example, like in Caesarea Philippi, we are sometimes guilty of putting our faith in political powers. Another common “god” is the god of wealth, putting our trust in money or material things. In light of recent events, the god of power has become pretty clear. We see this in the unnerving threat of nuclear war with North Korea. We see it in some politicians’ unwillingness to do what is right for fear of losing support from constituents or wealthy special-interest groups. We even see it in some church leaders who relish more in the size of their congregation and the influence of their position than in actually acting out the mission of Christ.

Other gods I’ve become aware of recently in my own life are the gods of privilege, comfort and safety. Even as I know that white people hold most of the power in this country – in politics, in academia, in the military, in sports, in the media and entertainment – and that my whiteness affords me a lot of privileges I did nothing to earn, I have a hard time doing anything to change that because those privileges make me very comfortable and make me feel very safe! Why would I want to give that up? And yet I know – they are false gods! I know this because if they were true gods they would bring life to all people, not just to white people like me. And when Peter proclaims Christ at the foot of that Wall of the [False] Gods, he is calling the Church of today to notice what false gods aim to have power over us – to recognize them, and then to proclaim Christ’s power over them!

The second trait of the Church we can see from Peter’s confession is, we are a Church who speaks up. When Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” – if Peter had remained silent, Jesus would not have declared the Church be built upon him. Speaking up was a pre-requisite to forming the Church. Jesus did not build His Church upon silence, or waiting to gather the facts, or weighing consequences – he built it upon boldness, upon willingness to say what is true – even, as we’ve seen, when our false gods might have us say otherwise.

And yet since that moment, the Church has often fallen short of this qualifying characteristic. When the Nazis rose to power in Germany, the Church did very little to stop it, aside from a few people speaking out. In fact, some churches even adapted their theology to be consistent with that of the Nazis, and preached their support of that movement that resulted in millions of deaths. The Church was very much complicit in that dark time in history.

A few decades later, during the Civil Rights Movement, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. did not shy from calling out the Church on her silence. To be silent, he said, was to side with the oppressor. In his famous Letter from Birmingham Jail, he wrote, “All too many have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained-glass windows.” In other words, he implored the Church to do what Peter did: to proclaim boldly the mission of Christ into the world, not stay safely tucked away in her sanctuaries, and ignoring the plight of the marginalized outside the doors.

Of course, it would be impossible for the Church to speak out boldly, especially against the false gods of our culture, without the final trait I want to highlight today, which is that, we are a Church who forgives and is forgiven. After Jesus informs Peter that he will build his church on him, he gives Peter what we call the “power to bind and to loose.” It is the power to forgive sins or not. Of course, that power ultimately belongs to Christ himself – what is being given to Peter here is the power to announce it. However the logistics work – it is so important that Jesus gives this power, indeed this gift, to the Church. Because it is a difficult calling, being the Church. It is risky. It pulls us out of our comfort zones. Being the Church is not about coming here each week to find rest for our souls and sing some songs and see our friends and pray. Those are all good things, and often that is exactly what we find here. But the call of the Church is so much more than that. The call of the Church is to boldly proclaim Christ, in word and deed, into a world desperate to know him. It is to look at the political power dynamics, and the false gods, and ways our attention is pulled away from God, and say, “Christ is greater than all of that!” It is to care deeply about the marginalized and the oppressed – the very people that Christ himself cared for – and to serve them, even if it is not in our personal best interest.

That call is so, so hard, and we will definitely fall short. And so Jesus also gave us the continuing promise that in the Church, we would also find forgiveness. He gave us the promise that we could come here, hear words of forgiveness and love and life, and be strengthened to go back out into the world and keep trying. And he gave us the authority to say, “Christ gives this gift to you, too,” to the people who need it the most. All of this is who and what the Church is – speaking up in faith, speaking out against powers that would draw us away from God, and receiving and offering forgiveness. We do all this in faith and hope that all the world would know the love of our living God.

            Let us pray… God our rock, you have called your Church to speak up and speak out against the forces that defy you, and you offer us forgiveness. Give us courage to live out this call every day. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Marching for Justice

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to join with over 3000 faith leaders from several faiths, and a number of lay people, to march from the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial to the Department of Justice, to make our voices heard about the need for racial justice, economic justice, voting rights, and healthcare. These are all issues the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. addressed in his I Have a Dream speech in the original March on Washington, which happened exactly 54 years before, and are all still issues today.

I was eager to be a part of something bigger than my local congregation, or even the Lutheran Church. I was eager to feel and be a part of the energy of so many devoted faith leaders, as well as to make a very public statement that other Christians and people of other faiths do not join the Christian Evangelicals in supporting what is currently going on in Washington, nor of various social issues. (When I say I am pro-life, I mean pro-life across the board - including providing prenatal care, parental leave, and healthcare, immigrant and refugee rights, environmental justice, LGBT rights, education, addressing mass incarceration and other race-related issue... not just pro-birth.) I was eager to hear dynamic speakers, to glean insights from them, to come back energized, refreshed, and motivated.

In addition to all of that, my grandparents, Dick and June Solberg, marched with Dr. King in the original March on Washington, and were there to hear his epic speech. Before I left for Washington, I read about it in my grandpa's memoirs. He had recently been hired as the new dean of Thiel College, and marched with my grandma as a representative of the American Lutheran Church (a predecessor body of my own ELCA). I have long looked to my grandparents as models of faith, life, and ministry, and here I had an opportunity to walk in their footsteps, so to speak. The fact that the 1000 Ministers March for Justice took place on the anniversary of my ordination (and, my baptism!) sealed the deal. I was going!

There were so many dynamic speakers and moments, from people of so many different faiths and backgrounds, and every one of them had something important to say. I wanted to include a few highlights:

* One person held a sign that said, "Who benefits from the decisions you make?" I love this question. Sometimes we need to make decisions that benefit ourselves (like, saving money for retirement, or eating healthy food, or taking a vacation). That's okay. But when we are considering the decisions before us that have real effects on other people, especially other people who are less privileged than ourselves, this is a good reality check. Am I voting this way because it directly benefits me? Does a benefit to me mean that someone else suffers in some way? Who, and how? As Dietrich Bonheffer says, "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die." Or as Jesus says, "Take up your cross and follow me." Nothing about Christian life says that we choose the best course for ourselves; it is always to choose what is best for your neighbor - especially your neighbor who is suffering.

* One speaker elaborated on that theme, saying that love is best expressed through sacrifice. We know that by looking at Jesus, who of course sacrificed everything for our sake, and who told us that true love means laying down your life for another. This speaker (sorry, can't remember names!) went on to say, "You want justice? Fine. What are you willing to sacrifice for it?" Boy, that made me think. I talk a big talk about justice, and am even willing to admit my own white privilege and the ways I have benefited from it. But am I willing to give it up? Am I willing to actively work against my best interest (even if just in the short term), if that is what it takes to achieve justice for all? And if I'm not - who am I to preach it? ("Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." MLK)

* I wish I could remember the exact words of this next one, but it was basically that loving your neighbor means not only directly serving them, but also not being ambivalent about your neighbor in need. I think this is a problem for Christians of privilege. Though of course we can't help everyone all the time, and have to make choices about where to exert our energy, I think so often we say, "Well, that's not my problem," or, "That doesn't affect me or anyone I care about," and we ignore the needs of others. ("Yeah, I know that black people are discriminated against, but is it really such a big deal? Or are they just making it a big deal?" So easy to justify our lack of care...)

* One rabbi had a line I just loved: he said it was all well and good we were marching today, but his people, the Jewish people, started marching 5000 years ago. 5000 years ago, they marched out of Egypt, out of their oppression, and celebrated the freedom God had granted them. This is such a central story for Judaism, which we just so happen to be starting in our lectionary readings. On Sunday, we heard about how the Hebrew women resisted Pharaoh's decree that all Hebrew boys should be killed because they were getting too numerous and strong. The midwives (who feared God, the text tells us) first said that the Hebrew women were so vigorous, they were giving birth before the midwives even got there. And God rewarded the women for resisting Pharaoh by giving them families. So Pharaoh made a harsher decree, telling everyone to kill the Hebrew boys. Still, some Hebrew women resisted, by hiding a baby, then sending him down the river where Pharaoh's daughter would find him. She adopted him, and Miriam, the baby's sister, managed to arrange for him to be nursed by his biological mother. That baby, of course, was Moses; the women's resistance to Pharaoh made it possible for Moses to then resist Pharaoh even further, and ultimately lead God's people out of slavery and into freedom. What a story for our times!

* Speaking of the Jewish community that was present, one representative from the Jewish Cantors Association got the whole crowd of us singing, "Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary, pure and holy, tried and true. With thanksgiving, I'll be a living sanctuary for you." Then we all sang it in Hebrew, with him feeding us the words! The women right behind us were Jewish, and singing their hearts out with grins on their faces during the Hebrew.

* Finally, one of our last speakers was Otis Moss III, and called the Church to repentance: of our exclusion of LGBTQ brothers and sisters, of our racism, our oppression of the First Nations (if we want to talk about taking back our country, he said, let's talk to the First Nations!), and of our silence - so that we can be the Body of Christ more fully in the world and with all the beautiful diversity that God has made in creation. This really resonated with me, because this is exactly where I have found myself in my own journey, especially since Charlottesville. To quote Dietrich Bonheffer again, "Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless." I have been compelled to do some serious self examination to discover where I have participated in these various sins, where I have been complacent or just negligent.

And the more I think about it, the more I think this is necessary - for all sides - if we want to find healing in this country. We need to all be able to recognize our role in causing division, and in disregarding those in need, and in placing our own safety and comfort above that of others, and in assuming our hopes and goals are the highest hopes and goals. No one will ever convince anyone else; we will only come together if we are willing to be vulnerable and self-reflective with each other. That is, if we are able to see in ourselves and in each other our common humanity. And repentance is such an important part of that.

All in all, it was a pretty moving experience. I was touched by our ability to appreciate the voices of different faiths, to speak in ways with which we could all resonate, regardless of background, to call out evil (rarely people, but rather, people's actions) but to otherwise lift each other up. It was a very spirit-filled event, that I was proud to be a part of. I'm so grateful I could be!

My marching companions from Upstate NY Synod